CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Regrouping
The next morning Rack was hanging in his parlor, ignoring everyone out in his waiting room. There was quite a crowd there too, because he had refused to see anyone during the night. About three AM they had started banging desperately at the door to his inner sanctum, refusing to obey his shouts to be quite. So he had cast a spell on the door so that it would give off a burning heat. He was angry because Willow had not shown up at his coven meeting the night before. Allowing the people in his waiting room to suffer was at least one way to get back at the world for letting him down.
It was still very early when the little man who had visited Rack before Christmas came in. He had been the one who had suggested that Rack invite Amy into his coven with the hope of luring Willow into it as well. He'd come to hear what had happened the night before. But when he saw the crowd in the waiting room, he knew something was wrong. He noticed Amy the little blond rat girl off in the corner near the clock. She didn't glance at him when he came in. There were just too many people for anyone to notice a diminutive and wrinkled man like himself. He was the type people hardly ever gave a first thought to, much less a second. And that was fine with him. Better not to be noticed. It gave you more freedom of movement and action. What was it they said? The most dangerous enemy is the one you underestimate.
The little man made his way to Rack's door and he saw by the glow what type of spell was on it. He wasn't a man of flash himself generally speaking. He preferred the old spells and legends, the harder stuff that most people didn't have the patience for. This door heating spell seemed a bit overdone to him. But that was Rack. He liked to show off. Youngsters! With a twinkle in his eyes, the old little man held up his flattened palm to the door without touching it. Then he made a shoving motion and the door flew open to admit him. Some of the other people in the waiting room tried to shove their way in around him. But they weren't able to move before he had crossed Rack's threshold. The man may have appeared old, but he was surprisingly quick. As soon as he passed inside, the hot door closed behind him.
"So. I take it things didn't go well last night," the little man said.
Rack was strewn over his couch, an angry look strung across his face. "She didn't show! Do you believe it? I offer her a place in MY coven and wait weeks for her to come around. Then she finally consents and what happens? She doesn't show."
"The red-headed witch?"
"Of course! Who else? This has never happened to me before! Once they're mine, they stay mine! To fail like this . . . . Well!"
"Surely you're not thinking about giving up now. If I were you I'd send the rat girl to find out what happened. Then we can handle things from there. Really, Rack. You shouldn't let yourself get so excited. Before you know it, the witch will be part of your coven. And then our plan can move forward. You'll see. It will all work out."
"I wish I had your confidence, Doc."
"It all comes with age," he said waving a delicate hand. "After the first few hundred years, you learn to have patience."
- - - - - - - - - -
While Rack and Doc were having their meeting, what was left of the Triad was in Warren's basement. Jonathan was dozing restlessly in a lounge chair and Warren was working hard at his next project.
If it had been up to Jonathan, he would have been on his way out of Sunnydale, trying to get as far as possible from his one time friend Warren. But that wasn't how things had worked out. Warren had basically ordered him to stay and keep him company while he worked on his next project. Since Warren was bigger then he was and he now seemed totally mad, Jonathan had agreed. He didn't understand why Warren needed him. From the first moment they'd returned from the railroad yard the night before, Warren had burrowed into his computer and hadn't come up once. Just as well, remembering everything that happened the night before, Jonathan was happy to keep his distance.
After they had left the railroad yard, leaving both the ray gun and the diamond behind, it had been all Jonathan could do to keep Warren under control.
"He has my diamond!" Warren had screamed pounding on the door of the van. "We've got to go back!"
"No!" Jonathan said, driving erratically in order to keep his passenger off balance. "We can't go back. We don't have a weapon anymore and they outnumber us. We have to go. There's no other way. We can regroup and come up with another plan tomorrow."
"But Spike's got my diamond!" Warren had wailed. "He took it! It's mine! It belongs to me!"
"Yes, I know. We'll get it back. But you've got to calm down now."
"No! I won't calm down! It's MY diamond! Not Spike's! I want it back!"
"We'll get it back. Don't worry."
But Warren would not be comforted. He started trashing the inside of the van, pulling down all the equipment that the Triad had so carefully assembled and built. Desperately Jonathan tried to think of what to do. There was really only one argument to try.
"Warren . . . Warren, what does Andrew think?"
Somehow this question reached Warren. He stopped, snuffling back tears of aggravation. "What?"
"I said, what does Andrew think? Does he have any ideas?"
"I don't know."
"Then maybe you should talk to him."
Warren got quiet for a minute. "Andrew says you're right. There's nothing we can do tonight. He says we should go back to my basement immediately and start working on our next plans."
Jonathan breathed a sigh of relief. If Andrew really was in Warren's brain somewhere, it was good to hear that he still had a bit of sense. It was clear Warren didn't anymore.
By the time they got to Warren's basement, Warren already seemed to have come up with a plan. "Got to get back at Spike," he said over and over again. "I know how." He shuffled through some papers in a drawer and came out with some computer print-outs. They were the ones he'd done up before Christmas on Spike's chip. "These. These will give me my revenge and hopefully bring my diamond back."
"Why is this diamond so important?" Jonathan had asked.
"Because it IS!" Warren had yelled. "It's mine and Spike will pay for taking it! I can't be whole again without it."
And so Warren worked through the night, examining the print outs and running scenarios through his computer for clues as to what the chip did. Jonathan literally jumped out of his chair when Warren suddenly let out a big growl and started throwing things at the wall.
"What is it?" Jonathan asked snapping to attention. "What happened?"
"AH! This is not going to be as easy as I thought. It looks like a very simple device. I would say that it has one basic operation." Warren got to his feet and began pacing, waving his arms for emphasis. "It's lodged in the area that has to do with the senses, feeling, seeing, touch, smell, etc. That makes me wonder if it's supposed to heighten or affect the senses in some way. Or maybe it's supposed to sense things along with him. Or maybe even for him. Or maybe it's some kind of combination of those things. I don't know. The funny thing is, it also seems to be sending out or picking up information from another area of the brain, the one that has more to do with intention and decision making. It's all very strange and very interesting. It's obviously going to take a few days to figure this out, even with both Andrew and I working on it. He's as stumped as I am."
"Oh . . . Is he?" Jonathan said, trying to humor him.
"He's not as computer savvy as I am, of course. But he's doing the best he can."
"That's . . . nice."
"First we have to figure out what it does. Then we have to figure a way to use it to our advantage. Perhaps affect its operation by remote control. Or at the very least make it short circuit, maybe blowing his brain out. That ought to get Spike's attention."
"Yeah. I guess it would. Um, I'm thinking of going out and getting some breakfast or lunch or something. Do you and, uh, Andrew want me to bring anything back?"
"No. Nothing for us. Andrew says he's hungry but I think he's just being a wuss. We've got real work to do here. And the faster we get this research out of the way, the sooner we can get back the diamond and begin our revenge."
"Right. So, I'll just be gone for a bit," Jonathan said, backing up toward the door as Warren returned to his computer. "Whew!" he said to himself out loud once he was outside. "Warren's turned into like a mad scientist."
- - - - - - - - - -
Willow's steps were lighter that Friday as she attended classes. Tara had felt well enough to go to class and the two of them had been meeting in-between as much as they could. It felt so good to be back together. Every time Willow saw her, her insides churned with delight. Tara was back. Her Tara. Could there be anything better then this?
It was just after noon and Willow was heading to the cafeteria to meet Tara for lunch, when Amy stepped into her path. She hadn't seen the other witch coming. She was too busy thinking about Tara.
"You weren't at Rack's last night," Amy said, getting right to the point. Her tone was accusatory and her expression icy.
Willow took a moment to get her thoughts off her lover and onto the question. "Oh, yeah . . . No, I didn't go."
"And why not?"
"Cos Tara and I got back together. She's even staying with me again. I don't know if it's permanent. But I'm gonna do everything in my power to make it that way. I've got to give her all my attention right now."
"So, you're back in prison."
Willow matched Amy's hard expression. "Tara is not a prison. Love is not a prison. Look, I'm sorry you've never had a relationship like this one, but Tara is like my whole world . . . my other half. Without her, nothing else really matters."
"Sure sounds like a prison."
"Well, it's not. A prison is where you get held against your will. Love isn't like that. I hope you'll find that out someday."
Amy took a step closer. "Well, what about family? The coven is your family. That's love too. They'll take care of you and look out for you."
"They don't even know me. How can they be my family? Look. I'm glad you've found something there. But it's not for me. Not now. Tara comes first." And with that Willow stepped resolutely away from Amy and continued on toward the cafeteria. She didn't look back because she felt she'd left that world behind.
Amy knew Willow. By the tone of her voice and the serious glint in her eyes, she knew Willow meant what she said. The other times they'd talked about Rack, there had been this little hint of uncertainty flickering at the edge of her eyes. But not this time.
When Amy got back to Rack's, the waiting room outside of his inner sanctum was still horribly crowded. However, Rack sensed her presence and admitted her immediately. Doc was there as well, standing not far from the door.
"What news, my dear?" Doc asked in his pleasant voice.
Amy looked sideways at the diminutive man. For some reason he made her nervous. "There's a problem," she said. And she told them about her meeting with Willow in full detail. "I think she really means it this time," Amy said at last. "She's not coming back."
"At least not as long as Tara is around," Doc said, stroking his cheek thoughtfully with his fingers. "So . . . We'll just have to remove her."
"What's your plan?" Rack asked.
"Don't you worry about it. I'll take care of everything. You say Tara is staying with Willow, my dear?"
"That's what she said," Amy answered. "But I don't know if it's all the time."
"That may make things a little more difficult, because I'll need to get Tara alone. In the bloom of returning love they will probably be quite inseparable at first. So I may have to wait for a little while. But it's only a matter of time." Doc moved toward the door and prepared to leave. "You probably won't be hearing much from me for a while. But when you do, be prepared to move quickly. Our poor friend Willow will be in much need of comfort."
And with that, he waved his right hand to open Rack's door and was gone.
Regrouping
The next morning Rack was hanging in his parlor, ignoring everyone out in his waiting room. There was quite a crowd there too, because he had refused to see anyone during the night. About three AM they had started banging desperately at the door to his inner sanctum, refusing to obey his shouts to be quite. So he had cast a spell on the door so that it would give off a burning heat. He was angry because Willow had not shown up at his coven meeting the night before. Allowing the people in his waiting room to suffer was at least one way to get back at the world for letting him down.
It was still very early when the little man who had visited Rack before Christmas came in. He had been the one who had suggested that Rack invite Amy into his coven with the hope of luring Willow into it as well. He'd come to hear what had happened the night before. But when he saw the crowd in the waiting room, he knew something was wrong. He noticed Amy the little blond rat girl off in the corner near the clock. She didn't glance at him when he came in. There were just too many people for anyone to notice a diminutive and wrinkled man like himself. He was the type people hardly ever gave a first thought to, much less a second. And that was fine with him. Better not to be noticed. It gave you more freedom of movement and action. What was it they said? The most dangerous enemy is the one you underestimate.
The little man made his way to Rack's door and he saw by the glow what type of spell was on it. He wasn't a man of flash himself generally speaking. He preferred the old spells and legends, the harder stuff that most people didn't have the patience for. This door heating spell seemed a bit overdone to him. But that was Rack. He liked to show off. Youngsters! With a twinkle in his eyes, the old little man held up his flattened palm to the door without touching it. Then he made a shoving motion and the door flew open to admit him. Some of the other people in the waiting room tried to shove their way in around him. But they weren't able to move before he had crossed Rack's threshold. The man may have appeared old, but he was surprisingly quick. As soon as he passed inside, the hot door closed behind him.
"So. I take it things didn't go well last night," the little man said.
Rack was strewn over his couch, an angry look strung across his face. "She didn't show! Do you believe it? I offer her a place in MY coven and wait weeks for her to come around. Then she finally consents and what happens? She doesn't show."
"The red-headed witch?"
"Of course! Who else? This has never happened to me before! Once they're mine, they stay mine! To fail like this . . . . Well!"
"Surely you're not thinking about giving up now. If I were you I'd send the rat girl to find out what happened. Then we can handle things from there. Really, Rack. You shouldn't let yourself get so excited. Before you know it, the witch will be part of your coven. And then our plan can move forward. You'll see. It will all work out."
"I wish I had your confidence, Doc."
"It all comes with age," he said waving a delicate hand. "After the first few hundred years, you learn to have patience."
- - - - - - - - - -
While Rack and Doc were having their meeting, what was left of the Triad was in Warren's basement. Jonathan was dozing restlessly in a lounge chair and Warren was working hard at his next project.
If it had been up to Jonathan, he would have been on his way out of Sunnydale, trying to get as far as possible from his one time friend Warren. But that wasn't how things had worked out. Warren had basically ordered him to stay and keep him company while he worked on his next project. Since Warren was bigger then he was and he now seemed totally mad, Jonathan had agreed. He didn't understand why Warren needed him. From the first moment they'd returned from the railroad yard the night before, Warren had burrowed into his computer and hadn't come up once. Just as well, remembering everything that happened the night before, Jonathan was happy to keep his distance.
After they had left the railroad yard, leaving both the ray gun and the diamond behind, it had been all Jonathan could do to keep Warren under control.
"He has my diamond!" Warren had screamed pounding on the door of the van. "We've got to go back!"
"No!" Jonathan said, driving erratically in order to keep his passenger off balance. "We can't go back. We don't have a weapon anymore and they outnumber us. We have to go. There's no other way. We can regroup and come up with another plan tomorrow."
"But Spike's got my diamond!" Warren had wailed. "He took it! It's mine! It belongs to me!"
"Yes, I know. We'll get it back. But you've got to calm down now."
"No! I won't calm down! It's MY diamond! Not Spike's! I want it back!"
"We'll get it back. Don't worry."
But Warren would not be comforted. He started trashing the inside of the van, pulling down all the equipment that the Triad had so carefully assembled and built. Desperately Jonathan tried to think of what to do. There was really only one argument to try.
"Warren . . . Warren, what does Andrew think?"
Somehow this question reached Warren. He stopped, snuffling back tears of aggravation. "What?"
"I said, what does Andrew think? Does he have any ideas?"
"I don't know."
"Then maybe you should talk to him."
Warren got quiet for a minute. "Andrew says you're right. There's nothing we can do tonight. He says we should go back to my basement immediately and start working on our next plans."
Jonathan breathed a sigh of relief. If Andrew really was in Warren's brain somewhere, it was good to hear that he still had a bit of sense. It was clear Warren didn't anymore.
By the time they got to Warren's basement, Warren already seemed to have come up with a plan. "Got to get back at Spike," he said over and over again. "I know how." He shuffled through some papers in a drawer and came out with some computer print-outs. They were the ones he'd done up before Christmas on Spike's chip. "These. These will give me my revenge and hopefully bring my diamond back."
"Why is this diamond so important?" Jonathan had asked.
"Because it IS!" Warren had yelled. "It's mine and Spike will pay for taking it! I can't be whole again without it."
And so Warren worked through the night, examining the print outs and running scenarios through his computer for clues as to what the chip did. Jonathan literally jumped out of his chair when Warren suddenly let out a big growl and started throwing things at the wall.
"What is it?" Jonathan asked snapping to attention. "What happened?"
"AH! This is not going to be as easy as I thought. It looks like a very simple device. I would say that it has one basic operation." Warren got to his feet and began pacing, waving his arms for emphasis. "It's lodged in the area that has to do with the senses, feeling, seeing, touch, smell, etc. That makes me wonder if it's supposed to heighten or affect the senses in some way. Or maybe it's supposed to sense things along with him. Or maybe even for him. Or maybe it's some kind of combination of those things. I don't know. The funny thing is, it also seems to be sending out or picking up information from another area of the brain, the one that has more to do with intention and decision making. It's all very strange and very interesting. It's obviously going to take a few days to figure this out, even with both Andrew and I working on it. He's as stumped as I am."
"Oh . . . Is he?" Jonathan said, trying to humor him.
"He's not as computer savvy as I am, of course. But he's doing the best he can."
"That's . . . nice."
"First we have to figure out what it does. Then we have to figure a way to use it to our advantage. Perhaps affect its operation by remote control. Or at the very least make it short circuit, maybe blowing his brain out. That ought to get Spike's attention."
"Yeah. I guess it would. Um, I'm thinking of going out and getting some breakfast or lunch or something. Do you and, uh, Andrew want me to bring anything back?"
"No. Nothing for us. Andrew says he's hungry but I think he's just being a wuss. We've got real work to do here. And the faster we get this research out of the way, the sooner we can get back the diamond and begin our revenge."
"Right. So, I'll just be gone for a bit," Jonathan said, backing up toward the door as Warren returned to his computer. "Whew!" he said to himself out loud once he was outside. "Warren's turned into like a mad scientist."
- - - - - - - - - -
Willow's steps were lighter that Friday as she attended classes. Tara had felt well enough to go to class and the two of them had been meeting in-between as much as they could. It felt so good to be back together. Every time Willow saw her, her insides churned with delight. Tara was back. Her Tara. Could there be anything better then this?
It was just after noon and Willow was heading to the cafeteria to meet Tara for lunch, when Amy stepped into her path. She hadn't seen the other witch coming. She was too busy thinking about Tara.
"You weren't at Rack's last night," Amy said, getting right to the point. Her tone was accusatory and her expression icy.
Willow took a moment to get her thoughts off her lover and onto the question. "Oh, yeah . . . No, I didn't go."
"And why not?"
"Cos Tara and I got back together. She's even staying with me again. I don't know if it's permanent. But I'm gonna do everything in my power to make it that way. I've got to give her all my attention right now."
"So, you're back in prison."
Willow matched Amy's hard expression. "Tara is not a prison. Love is not a prison. Look, I'm sorry you've never had a relationship like this one, but Tara is like my whole world . . . my other half. Without her, nothing else really matters."
"Sure sounds like a prison."
"Well, it's not. A prison is where you get held against your will. Love isn't like that. I hope you'll find that out someday."
Amy took a step closer. "Well, what about family? The coven is your family. That's love too. They'll take care of you and look out for you."
"They don't even know me. How can they be my family? Look. I'm glad you've found something there. But it's not for me. Not now. Tara comes first." And with that Willow stepped resolutely away from Amy and continued on toward the cafeteria. She didn't look back because she felt she'd left that world behind.
Amy knew Willow. By the tone of her voice and the serious glint in her eyes, she knew Willow meant what she said. The other times they'd talked about Rack, there had been this little hint of uncertainty flickering at the edge of her eyes. But not this time.
When Amy got back to Rack's, the waiting room outside of his inner sanctum was still horribly crowded. However, Rack sensed her presence and admitted her immediately. Doc was there as well, standing not far from the door.
"What news, my dear?" Doc asked in his pleasant voice.
Amy looked sideways at the diminutive man. For some reason he made her nervous. "There's a problem," she said. And she told them about her meeting with Willow in full detail. "I think she really means it this time," Amy said at last. "She's not coming back."
"At least not as long as Tara is around," Doc said, stroking his cheek thoughtfully with his fingers. "So . . . We'll just have to remove her."
"What's your plan?" Rack asked.
"Don't you worry about it. I'll take care of everything. You say Tara is staying with Willow, my dear?"
"That's what she said," Amy answered. "But I don't know if it's all the time."
"That may make things a little more difficult, because I'll need to get Tara alone. In the bloom of returning love they will probably be quite inseparable at first. So I may have to wait for a little while. But it's only a matter of time." Doc moved toward the door and prepared to leave. "You probably won't be hearing much from me for a while. But when you do, be prepared to move quickly. Our poor friend Willow will be in much need of comfort."
And with that, he waved his right hand to open Rack's door and was gone.